This personal account is contributed by Isma Ishtiaq, a resident of Delta, British Columbia. For more stories like this from CBC’s First Person series, visit the FAQ page.
Among cherished memories from my childhood is the image of family gatherings, seated comfortably on a small beige mat. As the sun set, its warm glow flooded the room through the curtains. Our meals often featured fragrant Pakistani dishes, with the highlight being a steaming pot of biryani adorned with saffron strands. At times, it was creamy butter chicken accompanied by homemade naan. In this intimate setting, we formed a circle, passing dishes, exchanging stories, and recounting the day’s events. This tradition, passed down by my father from his upbringing in Lahore to our home in the serene suburbs of north Delta, British Columbia, has held a special place in my heart.
My father always emphasized that these gatherings were not just about food but about the humility and gratitude that came from sharing a meal while seated on the floor. As I sat on that woven mat, I realized it symbolized the strong bonds uniting our family and the timeless celebration of our cultural heritage across generations.
Over the years, as my siblings and I grew busier with work, school, and other commitments, the tradition of family dinners on the floor faded away. More than a decade had passed since we last gathered on that humble mat.
Kimchi, chopsticks, Korean, French and English. It’s just a typical dinner with the Langevin Kim family in Verdun.
On a Thanksgiving evening, at the age of 23, the nostalgia of our family tradition resurfaced. I invited my friends, who came from diverse cultural backgrounds, to experience our ritual of dining together on the floor. Intrigued by the idea, they eagerly accepted the invitation.
After rummaging through storage, I retrieved the worn-out beige mat that had witnessed countless family dinners. Unfazed by its condition, my friends embraced the tradition as I laid out the mat in the living room. We recreated the circle, placing our Thanksgiving meal before us.
That evening marked a poignant moment. My father, dining at the table, glanced over, smiled, and joined us on the floor. As he shared the significance of the tradition with my friends, the other parents observed with curiosity from the dining table, witnessing the joy of togetherness. Most of my friends found the experience delightful, with one likening it to gathering around a campfire!